


How to Love a Lover

by HQ_Wingster



Series: A Teacup's Shatter [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bonding, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hotels, Huddling For Warmth, Hugs, Intimacy, Katsuki Yuuri Needs a Hug, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Nostalgia, Not Beta Read, Repressed Memories, Self-Reflection, Sharing a Bed, Tenderness, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: For as long as Viktor could remember, Yuuri had a peculiar aversion when it came to suits.Regular complaints about the cuffs being too short, infrequent discomforts when the fabric tugged at his skin, the tightness around his collar, restraining every breath--how has someone not died yet from this 'fashion over function?'--and Yuuri had an odd tendency to buy jackets that were two sizes too big or too small for his frame--it was a mess that left a bitter taste in Yuuri's mouth when his fingers browsed along the hangers in his closet.Even so, something in Yuuri stirred when he slowly peeled a suit jacket off from the crook of Viktor's shoulders. One vulnerable heart to another when the fabric crumbled under Yuuri's touch. His fingers already curled around Viktor's tie, undoing the knot that held Viktor's ugly, yet beautiful passion away from Yuuri's world. This touch felt familiar, but it was unlike anything Yuuri had done before when he peered into Viktor's eyes. Asking if he could continue, because whatever happened from here was by feeling alone. No rationale, if Yuuri could help it, when Viktor sealed his response with a kiss.





	How to Love a Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my last oneshot for a while (for this series) until I write/post chapter 3 of the main story. Because Yuuri has helped Viktor so much recently, in the main story and through these oneshots, I decided to write a fic where Viktor helps Yuuri.
> 
> This fic may be viewed as a preview for chapter 3 of How to Tame a Heart. I can promise y’all that this oneshot is of relevance to the main story, so I wanted the style to be similar.

 

Steam spilled from the shower spigot when Yuuri stepped into the tub. Just as his foot sunk into the turbulent current, the shower curtains held him back. Not enough where the hairs on the back of his neck stood, but the touch reminded Yuuri of a friend and perhaps a bit more. Of Yuuko, of Takeshi, of his sister, of his family, of Vicchan’s wagging tail before a morning walk.

A single touch could spur so many memories and yet, Yuuri brushed them aside when he planted his other foot into the water. He could feel their smiles, pressed against his ears. Simple reminders of dinner, of how the triplets were doing, of the latest skating feed, of how much Vicchan had grown, of the family tickets his father bought to football games, of Mari’s lover coming to eat dinner every weekend, of the corridors that needed a good sweep, but no one was listening.

These memories held Yuuri back. Just so that he can reconsider and weigh his options once more before committing to what couldn’t be undone. There wasn’t much to weigh when the plastic, water-protector slipped past his shoulders, and his body sank into the enclosed space of the shower. He yanked the top of the spigot, and a downpour washed nostalgia off shoulders. The showerhead didn’t care if there were good memories, bad memories, or anything in between. Everything was treated the same, and down they went into the drain. Along with what sanity Yuuri still wore when his dignity had crumbled just outside, on the tiled floor.

His hands fumbled at the shower knobs, twisting for the water to cool. As the warmth left his body, Yuuri retreated to the other side of the shower. Enough where he could feel a few of the bullets, raining down from the showerhead, but he was somewhat dry for the most part. Somehow and someway, Yuuri didn’t know how dire a flood could become until he was neck-deep into the water. The imaginary line bobbed at around his chest as Yuuri stepped back. Water swished over his feet with every step.

Yuuri sat down. Not on a ledge, where the curve of his back met the tiled wall behind him, but on the floor. His knees tucked against his chest as watery pellets drifted down his legs. Converged back onto the floor to rejoin their brethren. Swept by the current and down the drain. Only to be brought up again, splashing against Yuuri’s skin with teeth against their edges.

Much like blood, in some sense, with how a new vigor of life splashed through the body when the drops surged near the lungs. And back again, circulating in an endless cycle of hot and cold. Of what Yuuri could be, of what he should be, of what he wanted to be, and what he had to be.

What mask would he wear now? What mask would he wear after this? Yuuri didn’t know. His hands crawled up and pressed their palms against his forehead, shielding his face when real tears rolled down from his cheeks. Hot, against the chill of the shower.

Water rippled through his hair, but it wasn’t enough. Water streamed down the side of his face, mixed with his tears and feigned companionship. The frigid fingers grew more intimate as the seconds ticked on, eventually dripping down Yuuri’s chest and nipping at the tender folds of his stomach. Pooled into a tiny lake on top of his lap, and Yuuri wouldn’t have this any other way. Despite these lashes against his wounds, they were strong reminders of who he was right now.

Outside from the shower curtains, he was another man. And every now and then, occasionally, that persona and Yuuri would sit on the bottom of a tub just like this and converse while the running shower drowned out their words. But when the talk was done and the steam wiggled free from the cold, Yuuri was left with a few thoughts when he gazed down at his reflection.

Blurry, broken from falling bullets. Opaque, much like the taste of dinner when Yuuri loosed his smiling mask so that he could eat. Gone, Yuuri shifted his legs and pulled himself up. His palm left its telltale marks for a split second when Yuuri stood and shivered in the cold.

He must’ve looked like a puppet, with its strings undone. Unsure of what to do next, but a general routine worked through Yuuri’s veins. The swish of his body against the cascading water. Scattering droplets across the hotel’s shower curtain, and it trickled down onto the floor like blood. Sharp, clear, and there were more than enough to share when Yuuri massaged his scalp. His fingers slipped between the knots in his hair, and a thought crept to Yuuri’s mind.

A thought:  _ a memory of a silver ring, paired with silver locks and dark blue eyes emerged from the worries trickled across Yuuri’s skin. _

Of warm fingers brushed against Yuuri’s naked sleeves, resurfacing the thoughts that Yuuri had before. A flick of a smile from a Viktor that was neither real nor imaginary, but a memory against Yuuri’s skin when the heat enveloped into an embrace. It eased his heart, tamed it from a turbulent sea, and Yuuri wondered if this was how it felt to be saved. To feel that someone had his back, on and off between these seams Yuuri was stitched in. For the first time, a smile tugged at the lines of his lips.

Maybe, he was ready to enjoy hot showers again. Feel a connection with his outerward-self, and enjoy the pleasures that were long overdue.  _ One step at a time,  _ Yuuri told himself when he stepped back from the showerhead. Already, a palm-full of shampoo and conditioner worked themselves between his fingers. White appeared where the darkness from the past two years had resided, and a bit of soap slipped over Yuuri’s ear.

He felt a little braver. His fingers already reaching for the edge of the curtain, but Yuuri pulled his hand back. If he could wait, against his will, for two years, then he could wait another ten minutes and still wear the perky smile across his lips right now.

Outside this little world bled the lights of a magnificent bathroom. Didn’t come cheap, much like the suite Yuuri had asked for at the hotel’s front desk, but it held everything that a human would need for work. A towel snoozed on the floor, near the shower. Right next to it was a change of clothes that Yuuri had peeled out of. He could’ve thrown them around the room, drape a tie over the bowl of his sink, but a tidy bit of order was something to look forward to. But first, Yuuri knew that he had to do the same for himself if he was to reap his just reward. And for now, that touch was beyond this little world that heard his gasps and laughter when he ducked under the showerhead and turned the heat up to high.

Outside from the bathroom and easing himself on the edge of Yuuri’s bed, Viktor felt a stir across his chest. His fingers raced towards his holster, but he merely grazed at  _ Gypsy’s  _ butted groove. His heart thumped for what sounded like a mile until it eased against Viktor’s ear.

His hand pulled away from  _ Gypsy,  _ reminding himself that the scariest thing in the room with him were the change of clothes sitting on top of Yuuri’s suitcase near the foot of the bed. How from under a baggy t-shirt, Yuuri’s boxers peaked through. Enough where  _ William Tell’s Overture  _ crept through his blood.

He had been in hotel suites before, either as a bodyguard or a hitman with a brass knuckle on the other side of the door. There was a general etiquette that he was supposed to follow:  _ don’t leave a trace if he could help it, wear gloves, try not to break anything, and other usuals that Mama would have to dock from his paycheck.  _ So to sit on a bed, wiggling his toes along the carpet while a former-enemy but present-lover showered, Viktor felt out of place. Truth be told, he didn’t know where to rest his hands. On his lap? On the bed sheets? What would that look like if Yuuri popped out from the bathroom right about... _ now? _

A firm frown laid over his lips. Viktor heard a swear from the other side of the wall, from one of Yuuri’s neighbors. Not in pain, but from something else. Well, from  _ someone  _ else instead, and Viktor’s bangs trickled over his eyes at the thought. He didn’t particularly care about these nuances whenever Viktor had a suite to be in, and his mind usually drowned out the noise so he could focus on his target. Here, with no target-- _ but well, himself-- _ Viktor could pick out every little detail that he hadn’t thought about before.

A couple,  _ or a one-night stand,  _ having at it because there was some pleasure to doing it in public, yet veiled behind thin walls so that only a small portion of the world could know how enthralled both,  _ or more,  _ parties were. There was the crank of the floor’s ice machine, churning out cubes for a bottle of champagne or to slip a cold-one down the back of someone’s shirt. Low drums rattled against the floor, but it was probably from Viktor’s imagination. Suddenly fixated on how tight his tie was, Viktor undid and redid it. A few times, keeping his body busy, when his eyes darted around the room, itself.

Fluttering behind the curtains was a pane of windows, fastened against the harsh glow of the skyline. Pinnacles and archways dominated just beyond St. Petersburg’s minor bridge by the river, and the faint outline accompanied eased the jitters in Viktor’s fingers. He could look out and probably make-out a trace of his apartment, where Makkachin snoozed after a meal of chicken tenders. Slouched near the front door, anticipating if Viktor was to come early from this excursion. No, this was a date. The same thing as an excursion, actually, but  _ ‘date’  _ tasted a lot sweeter over Viktor’s tongue.

His hands still shook, but he rested them against his lap when he gazed around at Yuuri’s living space. This room was unlike any other, simply because Yuuri’s presence brightened every fixture.

Viktor could imagine the hot tea, boiled on and off, over the glass table situated near the window. Where Yuuri could enjoy his peppermint delights and gaze out, bathe against a setting sun after a long day. The outlets by the lamp bore the scratches of a plug, Yuuri messing around with his cords without his glasses. Viktor reeled his attention when other images came to mind and honestly, his imagination could just go wild from all the things Viktor wanted to see with his own eyes.

Of a bedhead Yuuri, snuggling a pillow against his chest while lost in sleep. A chirpy Yuuri, scrolling through his social medias with a toothpick between his teeth to feel tough when he was as soft as a marshmallow in the morning. A working Yuuri, busy with his assignments and tapping out a password that could unlock anyone’s heart.

Yuuri had invited Viktor into his world, into this safe haven where Yuuri could be himself when no one was looking at him through a scope-- _ hence the drawn curtains.  _ The thought that Yuuri had never seen a proper St. Petersburg sunrise wrestled a frown over Viktor’s brows when he flopped against Yuuri’s bed. Arms sprawled, his legs dangled over the edge, and his bangs suspended in the air for a moment before falling back down. Lightly perched over Viktor’s eyelids and he brushed them to the side. Quite suddenly, lost in the calm that enveloped over his body.

When Viktor turned his head, his forehead met the fluff of Yuuri’s pillow. Every edge cushioned by a similarity: Yuuri had spent many sleepless nights with the pillow clutched against his chest, and felt his first glimpse of sleep when his arms grew numb under the weight.

Viktor tried the same, rolling onto his side with the pillow tucked under his chin. It didn't matter that his suit crumbled beneath his weight, or  _ Gypsy  _ slipped out from her holster with a short jolt. Better yet, Viktor rested the gun on the nightstand. The low thud against the hardwood was more than enough to keep  _ Gypsy  _ still as Viktor slipped into Yuuri’s state of mind. He could close his eyes, open them, and walkthrough the same numbness that cloaked Yuuri when blankets didn't suffice.

Viktor rocked his body slightly, the pangs of sleep rippling across his body. Started at his toes and migrated up to his arms, where the pillow morphed and felt like his mother. As if she was lying in bed with Viktor, like he was a child again, and he could hear a whisper of her lullaby. She was an angel, invisible to the naked eye, when she folded one of her wings over Viktor to keep him warm.

_ “Mama,”  _ Viktor sighed into the pillow, pressing the softness against his chin. Through the curtain of his hair, he noticed a blurry outline of his mother. Perched on the edge of the bed, her hands rested across her lap like she had always done before. Right before she would ask for a hug and Viktor vividly remembered how his younger-self had leapt into her arms.

Viktor shifted his weight, his fingers slipped along a noticeable dip across the mattress. He felt the weight of Yuuri’s sleeping form. Curled on his side, with the pillow to keep his arms heavy, and with the bed sheets to cushion his fall whenever a nightmare warranted a reaction.

What kept Yuuri up during those nights? What coaxed him to fall asleep? If Viktor changed the name and the pronoun, those questions weren’t far-off from what he thought of when he was with his mother.

* * *

Instead of a pillow, she hugged Viktor. Instead of a spacious suite, she slept in a bedroom void of colors. Always in mourning, or at least it was on her mind, as soon as she rose from the bed covers and until she sank into the relief at night. Viktor remembered her fingers. When his mother caressed his face, it felt like a skeleton was stroking him periodically in the night. She liked to trace and sketch pictures with her touch, her way of imparting sweet dreams when Viktor’s chest rose and fell slowly against her own.

Mrs. Nikiforov,  _ or Ms. Lena Yanev if she wished to wear her old name,  _ never changed her mattress. Not because it was expensive or a hassle, but there were some memories that had bled through the springs and the fabrics. Right where her little boy slept, he filled out the same position that her husband had ingrained during the past five or so years for Viktor was four right now. He slept just like this father. Head slightly crooked, his hands huddled together as if he was holding something, and Viktor’s legs often reached over and hugged his mother’s. For security or out of habit. Unknowingly, that trait was passed down to him through his father, and Mrs. Nikiforov embraced her son back. With her arms and Viktor’s weight slowly drifted her to sleep.

Viktor had much more than just his father’s sleeping-position.

For one, he had his father’s eyes. They were a beautiful blue to wake up to when Mrs. Nikiforov woke her son with a warm cuddle. Viktor would wiggle and squirm and pretend-cry that he was captured by a dragon. Mrs. Nikiforov lightly scratched her son’s back and whispered that a good dragon mother would make sure that her dragonling had a good cuddle before breakfast. Glee painted across his cheeks, Viktor endured the morning-attack and listened as color rose in his mother’s laughter.

When Viktor grew a little older, perhaps nine or ten, Mrs. Nikiforov could lean out her kitchen window and watch as Viktor flocked with the neighborhood children. He was easily the youngest, but he was already a leader in his small group of friends. Jumping up and down when he showed a notebook of tricks and spins he had learned from his skating coach. Reenacting the same movements on a sidewalk was painful, especially after a fall that dug pebbles into his palm.

Even so, Viktor hopped back to his feet. A wobble with every step, pain suppressed behind a smile until he came back home. During dinner that night, Viktor hoped that the fall wouldn’t set him back on skating. In that instance, Mrs. Nikiforov could see her husband at where Viktor sat. Calm, collective, a sudden turn in seriousness before the look faded and Viktor’s smile poked through when he nibbled on a fried radish from his plate. Mrs. Nikiforov smiled, pretending that she didn’t notice the abrupt change that had come to Viktor, but it didn’t stop the worry. Trickling along her heart.

That was something both she and Viktor shared in the passing years.

Soft hearts: easy to worry when new had come over someone that they loved. Soft hearts: easy to crumble when Fate had a mean trick up her sleeve. Much like the joke that stole Mr. Nikiforov from the family tree, his branches seared off by a hot knife when Winter crept along and threw snow into the air. Viktor was around a year old when an electric fire claimed his father’s life, and Mrs. Nikiforov could still taste the smoke of that moment in time.

It had begun to snow and her husband promised that he had something special to give when he came back home. That gift became a phone call that notified Mrs. Nikiforov of what had happened to her husband, and of what was found of him. A finger with a tarnished wedding ring, but it could’ve been anyone’s and it was, indeed. Mrs. Nikiforov didn’t recognize the ring and watched as a widow cried over the loss of her dear and heart.

Viktor was heavy in Mrs. Nikiforov’s arms when they were in the police station, babbling like a baby would and fixated on the tears and scarlet faces of families that had all lost someone to the fire. Didn’t understand how so much pain could pool to one place, and Viktor drooled on his mother’s shoulder. Searching within himself something that he could do to brighten their faces, so he giggled. He made a ruckus that captured onlooking eyes, and people patted Mrs. Nikiforov and apologized for her loss. Of how painful it was to nurture a baby on her own, but Mrs. Nikiforov hardened her heart. This wasn’t like her, but she had to be strong for Viktor’s sake. Be the support he needed and Viktor, in return, flooded Mrs. Nikiforov with support when she turned her back and drove home. Rather numb, her mouth drawn as a firm line while Viktor cooed out the window.

That was one hole that couldn’t be covered in the heart, but a little bud managed to grow despite that. Every day since, when Mrs. Nikiforov started and ended her day with helping Viktor smile, she felt a smile along her own lips and believed that everything was going to be okay. It was hard, occasional burnouts when she needed time on her own. Sometimes, she could still feel her husband’s embraces and how he used to drape his coat over her shoulders when she was lost in thought. Somewhere in Heaven, her husband descended as an angel amongst men. Invisible to the naked eye, he outstretched his wing and Mrs. Nikiforov knew that she wasn’t alone. Her husband’s smile, his drive, his hugs, snippets of his laughter, and his heart lived on through Viktor.

* * *

Viktor’s thumb brushed against his cheek, felt the warmth of an old kiss that his mother always planted on him. At night, in the morning, leaving, reuniting. That was their rhythm and way of life. When Viktor closed his eyes, he could see how much he had grown during the past twenty-seven years. From crawling, to walking, able to kiss his mother’s hands, and then a peck on her arms, a kiss on the cheek, and one on the forehead when sixteen was his age. Where he used to straighten his mother’s necklace while she straightened his uniform-collar before school.

Later that afternoon, they planned on going to the park and perhaps adopt a poodle that had caught their eyes a few days ago. A lovely pup named ‘M’, and Viktor couldn’t wait to give her a name. So when his mother stopped and decided to browse through a store for some snacks, Viktor was a little impatient when he waited under his umbrella. It had begun to rain and at the time, he feared that they wouldn’t get to adopt ‘M’.

What was going through his sixteen-year-old mind after that? Viktor wasn’t sure when he rolled over on Yuuri’s bed. His fingers dug into Yuuri’s pillow when he remembered what happened afterwards. The noises still visceral in his ears when his heart ached.

Rain droplets spun like a triple axel when his younger-self turned around so suddenly, mouth agaped when a glass window shattered in front of him. Sprawled across the floor was his mother, dead. Shot with a bleeding heart and Viktor’s heart bled with hers. The sight alone riddled his composure with bullets until Viktor crumbled onto his knees. His umbrella slipped from his fingers, and the rain masked each of Viktor’s ragged breaths.

That was the end of his childhood but here, a week or two shy from his twenty-eighth birthday, Viktor relived those memories one page at a time. He had forgotten everything that led to that pivotal moment in his life, and Viktor could imagine his mother shaking her head right now.

But then, she understood where he was coming from. She had done the same when she was alive and was simply proud that Viktor recognized this for himself. Was this why her angel was here? So that Viktor could finally be himself and see how far he had grown? For sure because Viktor felt so vulnerable against Yuuri’s bed sheets, and he didn’t mind. There was nothing to fear in such a safe space, and laying here reconnected Viktor back to his past.

If Fate paid attention to what she had already done, Viktor knew that he could lose Yuuri. Or rather, Yuuri could lose him.

The thought should’ve bothered Viktor, but he smiled and unveiled his imaginary cards across the betting table. Where Fate drew her hair behind her ear, leaned forward to see the  _ Royal Flush  _ that Viktor had gathered, and Viktor reaped his rewards. Because he and Yuuri lost and found each other when their worlds collided. One step at a time.

Viktor imagined that this was how it felt when his mother and father reunited in Heaven. Slump figures perched on a branch before they finally turned around and saw each other after so long. But still, the image of the other was so clear in their minds, and their wings sprouted new feathers because of their love. And perhaps, while enjoying the pleasantries while their toes dipped into a memory pool, they recounted everything that they held and bridged their hands together when the world had torn them apart.

With his mind finally at ease, Viktor slowly sat up. Yuuri’s pillow still in his arms, and Viktor was ready to have the  _ real  _ Yuuri to take its place. Even so, he could wait a little longer. Amuse himself with these realizations, picture his parents in eternal bliss, and satisfy that he would have his chance soon.

Viktor’s eyes settled on the nightstand when he unhooked his holster from his belt and housed  _ Gypsy  _ inside. His knuckles brushed against Yuuri’s switchblade for it peeked out from an oriental fan. Hidden between the folds, blended in because of its mahogany color. However, what caught Viktor’s eyes wasn’t the ingenuity of how Yuuri hid his blade, but a post-it stamped across his fan’s turning hinge.

Written in soft cursive was a simple statement.  _ ‘The sun’s coming down, and no one can hurt you now.’ _

Yuuri had seen a St. Petersburg sunset, where a chapter ended and all the characters in a novel were fixed in time for tomorrow’s actions. And here, Viktor had seen a sunrise filtered through the curtains in his bedroom for all the dreams he could fulfill. Just between the switch from light to dark, from dark to light, Viktor and Yuuri met.

When the thought settled in Viktor’s mind, he wondered if Yuuri had ever thought of something similar while sitting here on this bed. It was a good bed, and the manufacturer deserved praise for all the beauty it unveiled for Viktor’s heart and mind. Maybe this was why couples retreated to hotels, Viktor reasoned when he swung his feet off from the edge of the bed. Knocked Yuuri’s suitcase over and a slew of clothes spilled into a mound.

Sweaters mixed with soft fleeces and cotton t-shirts. They were once nice, folded and pressed for every formula up Yuuri’s sleeves when he first arrived to St. Petersburg. Here, slumped with plastic bags thrown into the mix and with other toiletries for a trip back to Hasetsu, Viktor could probably convince Yuuri that he had made contemporary art. With stuff he shouldn’t have been touching when Viktor gathered the items together and placed them back into the suitcase. Amidst the chaos, everything that had a perfect match found a new partner.

The dress shirts had shorts at the end of their sleeves. The deodorant found mint gum, the gum slept with one of the ugliest ties in Yuuri’s collection, and the mesh of chaos met the corners of the suitcase when Viktor heaved everything in with one push. Yuuri had just finished his shower.

Viktor could hear droplets slip across Yuuri’s skin because that was how quiet the suite had become. For Viktor’s breath was hitched at his throat, his heart froze in mid beat, and the neighbors next door were fast sleep with their passion in the air. Infiltrating the very walls separating their suite from Yuuri’s, and it accompanied the steam that spilled from the bathroom when Viktor opened the door.

Compelled to bring something for Yuuri to wear, even though Yuuri hadn't said anything about it before. It just felt natural. And the suite was too cold to walk out to after a shower, so Viktor’s body moved on its own for this simple, yet monumental task. Light flooded past Viktor’s footsteps, and the shower steam nipped at his chin and prompted him to swallow the room with his eyes.

To the left of the shower stall was a luxurious bath, creamy because of its ceramics, and Viktor gathered the fine mist that had settled over the ledges. His fingerprints drew across the surface before he placed the fresh change of clothes near Yuuri’s previous outfit. So close to the shower that Viktor could angle his head away from one of the ceiling lights and make-out a faint silhouette of Yuuri through the shower curtain. Of every curve that drew Viktor’s breath, of how Yuuri’s body moved to the rhythm of his beating heart, and Viktor could’ve stood where he was. Simply watch as his Yuuri practiced self-love in the comforts of a warm privacy.

When Yuuri felt satisfied, he drew the shower curtain a tad bit and reached his hand out. Aware that Viktor was on the other side, or so Viktor hoped when he scooped Yuuri’s towel and pressed it against his lover’s palm. If Yuuri hadn’t noticed Viktor’s presence before, his voice didn’t betray him when he reeled the towel to the other side of the shower curtain. Pressed against his dripping chest, and Yuuri quieted his little heart. Flush sprouted from his neck and blossomed over him as if he was a cherry tree back in Hasetsu.

_ “You shouldn’t have,” _ was what Viktor heard when Yuuri whispered his gratitude.

The bath towel then pressed against his lips, muffling the sweet nothings that English couldn’t convey. The swirls of Yuuri’s accent unveiled all the colors hidden in Viktor’s gray world. His eyes picked up the shades of yellow and pearl white, laced across the bathroom with every echo of Viktor’s footsteps when he stepped back from the shower stall. From the corner of his eye, Viktor saw himself. Almost like a little boy enticed by something he could only dream of. The glint of his engagement ring spoke of everything that the heart could convey.

“I’m here with you…” Viktor’s voice faded before  _ ‘forever’  _ could slip from his tongue.

It was too soon to say that. They weren’t married, they were still strangers to what enthralled the other, but no one could deny how fond that statement sounded when Viktor had said it. Yuuri heard Viktor’s unspoken word, and he hid his smile behind his bath towel. Completely aware that Viktor couldn’t see it, but the mere silence spilled his secrets away before, finally, Viktor stepped out from the bathroom and left him with privacy. The soft click of the bathroom door eased Yuuri’s heart. His fingers massaged along the bottom of his chin, inspecting his pulse and how its intentions were heard. Loud and clear, as a bell in Yuuri’s biology.

Breathing steadily, he wrapped the bath towel loosely around his waist before pulling the shower curtain back. He blinked, adjusting to the lights. One hand at his towel, and the other steadied Yuuri when he stepped out. His toes met the cold, rigid floor. A trail of water followed him when the other foot slipped out. Droplets pelted his new change of clothes, and a smile perked across Yuuri’s lips. Quite suddenly, his towel slipped and crumbled onto the floor when Yuuri bent down and picked up his clothes.

While outside on the bed once again, Viktor leaned against the edge. Colors flushed in his eyes when he saw Yuuri’s suitcase from the corner of his eye.

How it looked completely  _ innocent  _ on the outside but inside, the entropy-- _ or, the degree of disorder-- _ was proportional to Viktor’s when he adjusted his engagement ring. Fiddling at it, every twist and turn meant to ease his skin, when nervousness flushed over him. Painting every curve and crevice with red because Viktor’s heart had so much to give. Perhaps, his heart had more tricks up its sleeve because steam planted a smooch across Viktor’s nose. However, his heart didn’t have the hands to open the bathroom door. He eyes sharped at the whisk of movement approaching him. His fingers reached for his belt, but no holster. No need for one for it was Yuuri that approached him.

Strutting down the carpet like a casual runway model; or better yet, like a man walking down the aisle to meet his lover on the other side. Yuuri’s glasses were clipped at the front of his collar, sagging his neckline into a ‘V’. The jutted curve of his collarbone reminded Viktor that he needed to breathe right now if he wanted to hold Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri approached him in nothing else, but a katsudon illustrated across his shirt and with the bottom of his boxers peeked below the white hem. The shirt was neither baggy or tight, simply comfortable on Yuuri’s frame, so why were his boxers…

Any rationale Viktor had left slipped when Yuuri’s fingers spilled across his shoulder. As if Viktor was falling, down into the depths of his heart. As chains sprung from desire and shackled around his body, hooked his arms together and he dangled like a spider’s kill when Yuuri parted his fringe with nimble fingers.

This was their game:  _ of whose heart could be tamed by the other. _

Yuuri was already one step ahead. Branded with  _ Player One  _ across his cheek when his hand migrated down and coiled around Viktor’s tie. Twisting the fabric, rocking Viktor’s body back and forth in a slow rhythm before Viktor picked up his controls for the game.  _ Player Two  _ flashed over his eyes when he coaxed Yuuri to sit down. Those murmurs pressed against Yuuri’s skin. Not English upon the back of Yuuri’s knuckles, but the curve of Viktor’s accent when he spoke in his native tongue. Red crept over the back of Yuuri’s ears when he sat on the bed. His toes suspended about above an inch, and Viktor scooted to sit comfortably next to him.

Their hands were inches before, and Viktor and Yuuri tiptoed their fingers across the great expanse. One intertwined around the other and, honestly, it was hard to describe how vulnerable they both felt. Cradling each other's touch, breathing in with the same breaths, and Yuuri deepened his touch. His fingers dipped farther down, a splash across Viktor’s palm, and Viktor gazed fondly at his love.

_ “I missed you.”  _ Viktor rested his cheek against Yuuri’s shoulder, rocking them both to a subtle rhythm. The creaks of the bed accompanied how Yuuri’s toes curled against the metal bed frame beneath him. A reminder that this was real.

The teacup of his love spilled, and Viktor was so close that he could gather it into his own teacup. Not a drop wasted, and Yuuri cuddled closer to Viktor. As if he was passing his teacup to Viktor, and Viktor passed his to Yuuri’s. The rim was fractured, but smoothed over when the imaginary line was pressed against Yuuri’s lips. A foamy froth tickled his mouth before the first taste, and Yuuri’s imagination left his lips buzzing soon after when his mouth wanted to touch something real instead.

Yuuri tilted his head just a little. Enough where his ear could touch Viktor’s hair, and Viktor’s fluttery breaths were like steam against Yuuri’s skin.

“I missed you, too.” Silence filled the end of that sentence for a moment before Yuuri pressed a kiss against Viktor’s hair. One kiss after another before Viktor lifted his head and peered into Yuuri’s eyes.  _ “Viktor.” _

No word sounded sweeter than how Yuuri had said his name. Or how Yuuri’s ring, dangled over his chest by a silver chain,  _ clicked  _ when he leaned forward and kissed a little closer to Viktor’s mouth. Close enough where Viktor could hear his breaths, but still far so that his lips twitched and wished that the touch could’ve been here instead.

The stain of that kiss stuck around, long after as a pleasant conversation worked its way out of Yuuri and Viktor’s mouths.

They talked about everything, but their ears only heard snippets. Of each other’s names, of their personal lives during the past two years, interesting moments from their respective mafias, and of the little white lies they still told to each other. Questions about the weather were supposed to be about each other’s state of mind. How was the other? Okay? Fine? How did it feel to meet like this again? A week before and then now? What kind of sleep tossed them through the night while an engagement ring burned against their skin?

Yuuri’s shirt twisted and crumbled in the forth and back rocking of his shoulder against Viktor’s. Whether it would end or last forever was between them at this point, and Yuuri could hold his share of the weight for an eternity. His t-shirt could rebound as good as new. A suit jacket had more difficulties, although Viktor mumbled that he didn't mind because Yuuri was here. However, Yuuri did.

Suits were too much of a constraint no matter how comfortable it must've felt on Viktor’s body. It was all the same, holding back the potential of what someone could do to another. Yuuri may’ve been selfish, but he wanted to hold Viktor. Feel his skin and flush against the heat radiating off from Viktor’s body.  Yuuri inched his fingers towards the crook of Viktor’s sleeve, but Viktor moved. Shuffling towards the bathroom to grab a towel to press against Yuuri’s hair. He was wet, and Viktor could clean him at the fold of a command when he came back. Yuuri scooted towards Viktor. Lowering his head, his bangs hovering over his nose, before a purr slipped from between his lips.

Viktor had a tender touch in how he worked. Careful as he massaged the towel against Yuuri’s scalp. Just the simplicity of the gesture reminded Viktor of Makkachin. How the poodle would sit in front of him when Viktor squatted on the bathroom floor, a wag to Makkachin’s tail when Viktor squished a towel under her jaw. Her front paws mounted over Viktor’s shoulders as Viktor worked his way down and fluffed Makkachin’s torso after a warm bath. And afterwards, Viktor received a lick across his cheek. Makkachin’s way of saying:  _ ‘I love you.’ _

Viktor didn’t expect a kiss. His wrists caught around Yuuri’s hands, and the bath towel slid onto Yuuri’s lap. Much like a veil that fell before a bride when she leapt into her spouse’s arms, but Viktor was sure that he was the bride in this situation. How Yuuri’s hands rolled around Viktor’s wrists and pulled him close for an embrace.

Viktor didn’t expect a kiss. His knees bumped awkwardly against Yuuri’s. He was slumped against Yuuri’s front, his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders for support when Yuuri snuggled against him. His ear hovering over Viktor’s heart, waiting. For what? Viktor wasn’t sure until he rested his head near the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Where his cheek touched Yuuri’s skin, and a pulse poked back at him. Of Yuuri’s heartbeats, quick and chirpy like Viktor’s because this was what Yuuri needed right now. All of these touches grew into an insatiable desire that compelled Yuuri to move on his own. To complete the puzzle,  _ his puzzle,  _ and feel complete again.

Viktor didn’t expect a kiss. He adjusted himself comfortably against Yuuri’s form. They both sank back, and Yuuri’s body collided into the bed with an  _ ‘oof’.  _ The bath towel from earlier discarded onto the floor when Viktor pushed himself up. His thighs tucked between Yuuri’s. His hands pressed along the edge of Yuuri’s crumbled t-shirt. Viktor slipped Yuuri’s glasses off from the neckline. Placed them carefully on the nightstand, near their respective weapons, and Viktor’s fingers grazed down the wall. Flicked the switch that turned off all the lights in the suite. One by one, darkness enveloped them in a succession. Until the only lights that crept in came from the curtained windows or the sliver of space beneath the front door.

Viktor didn’t expect a kiss when Yuuri reached his hand up. His palm happy against Viktor’s cheek, and Viktor nuzzled his nose against the patch of skin. Leaving a trail of kisses before Yuuri slipped his hand down. Ever-so slightly, his thumb curved over Viktor’s bottom lip. The touch, agonizingly slow compared to all the touches that they had shared before. Viktor’s desires surfaced as his hand crawled down Yuuri’s arm. Mapping every curve and bump on his map, and Viktor wore his heart at his sleeves.

Viktor didn’t expect a kiss, but he came close to having one before Yuuri slipped from between his fingers. Sitting up, Yuuri folded his hands over Viktor’s suit jacket. This had to go if they wanted to continue, and Viktor complied. Leaning his chin down to pepper kisses over Yuuri’s knuckles as he worked. Every touch, the tops of Viktor’s teeth sketching a pattern over Yuuri’s skin, and Viktor looked up. Gazing back at him was Yuuri, just as the moon emerged behind a bed of clouds and shone light through the curtains. Viktor saw himself, reflected in those eyes, when the suit jacket crumbled off his body. Yuuri never tore his eyes away, even when his arms slouched the back of Viktor’s neck. Holding on, loose yet strength kept them together. He and Viktor spoke, without words. Their senses danced in this little game of trust.

_ “Do you want me?”  _ The question already had a reply, but Yuuri wanted to hear it again. Not just through Viktor’s heart or from his touches, but through his word. This was the only moment where Yuuri had to look away, unsure of what he would see if his eyes lingered at Viktor’s lips for too long.

Somehow, Viktor had his back against the bed. Somehow, Yuuri was leaning over him. Perched with his elbow against the mattress, driving a dip where Yuuri could situate himself. His gaze swept over Viktor’s face and found the treasure that held its taste in gold.

Viktor’s didn’t expect a kiss, so he gave one. Arched his neck upwards and sealed his  _ ‘yes’  _ against Yuuri’s lips. Coaxing Yuuri to lay down, rest on top of Viktor’s chest, and Yuuri’s hands crumbled the front of Viktor’s dress shirt. Already filling down, undoing one button at a time until he could flush his fingers across the softness of Viktor’s stomach. How it squished under his weight, and a ripple of muscles hardened under Yuuri’s touch when Viktor’s body jerked. There was too much weight centered on Viktor’s lower body, so Yuuri pulled out from the kiss. His eyelashes fluttered when he sank near Viktor’s side instead. A steady weight on Viktor’s arm, and the man couldn’t speak for a moment.

His chest rose and fell in quick successions, wiggling a knife of worry down Yuuri’s throat, before Viktor finally rolled onto his side and met Yuuri. Their foreheads bumped, harder than intended. But then again, it wasn’t intended and Viktor whispered his apology.

Despite being an ‘epitome of sex’,  _ a title typically bestowed for the people of their profession,  _ the dull ache on Viktor’s lower belly and the baby-bruise on Yuuri’s forehead spoke of the realities of what a first time was sort of like. It was clumsy and to be fair, they could try again another time. That was sort of the beauty of working together, and Yuuri felt a lot better with just kissing Viktor like this instead of playing a role. Where here on this bed, Yuuri could nestle and just drape his arm over Viktor’s chest while tangled in this lazy embrace. Viktor’s arms were the warmest feature on his body, and he rested his chin on Yuuri’s head. Lost in thought when he blinked in the darkness.

“For a moment back there, did you view me as a client?”

Huddled near Viktor’s chest, Yuuri couldn’t pull away. Well, he could if he wanted to. Viktor hugged him with loose arms, aware that Yuuri didn’t like being in tight corners or in any condition that had him restrained in anyway. Yet, just that simple question restrained the answer that Yuuri wanted to say. Viktor was vulnerable to him. Naked, by some standards. He could easily slip out from his dress shirt and have his back bare to the switchblade on the nightstand.

Yuuri closed his eyes. His mouth pressed into a firm line.  _ “I did.” _

It was the quietest church bell to Viktor’s ears. Yuuri felt so small in his arms, crumbled and unsure of what to say next. A fracture away from bursting into a thousand pieces, but Viktor kept him together. His embrace tightened a little bit.

“Were you comfortable?” Viktor drew shapes along the back of Yuuri’s shoulder blades. Of little poofs that reminded him of poodles, of distracted lines that crooked around the field of Yuuri’s back, and Viktor’s finger jumped into a toe-loop before skating up the crook of Yuuri’s shoulder. Resting there before Viktor rested his hand and squished Yuuri. Gently, rocking him back and forth slowly to ease the mind.  _ “With what you did?”  _ Those words pressed and lingered at Yuuri’s forehead when Viktor planted a kiss there.

Yuuri couldn’t meet Viktor’s eyes. Not yet, so Viktor took this one step at a time. He had to leave Yuuri’s side, just for a few seconds. In those seconds, Yuuri’s arms touched a bed that had grown cold. The chill was unbearable until Viktor laid next to him again, a blanket pulled up to their chests. Keeping them warm, comforted, safe, and they were here together. Viktor grabbed Yuuri's pillow, fluffed it, and slid it gently under Yuuri’s head. The motions didn’t stop until Yuuri was sufficiently at ease, at least in body. His lips formed,  _ “No.” _

Viktor was never a client, not in Yuuri’s eyes. So for Viktor to ask what he did, Yuuri had failed him. The other-him had taken root, hurting Viktor with a lust that neither he nor Yuuri were prepared for. It all happened, only to jolt Yuuri back into control of his body when Viktor was in pain. Out of discomfort, than pleasure, and it broke the intimacy between them. Yuuri’s body was his own and yet, he slipped into autopilot. Simply because he wanted to love the man he cherished, and this was the bitter taste in Yuuri’s mouth when he shied away from Viktor’s touches and wanted to be alone.

“I don’t mind the intimacy.” Viktor spoke, careful with every word along the curve of his accent. Easy on Yuuri’s ears. This wasn’t a lecture. Simply one heart reaching out to the other if Yuuri wanted to hold it again. “If what you’re doing makes you uncomfortable, we can try something else.”

Yuuri perked up. His eyes followed the narrow line of Viktor’s neck before he could finally look at his fiancé in the eye. Viktor’s gaze was soft, blurred to Yuuri when tears trickled down his skin. His face scrunched, but he didn’t hide it. He was broken, and Yuuri wasn’t here to deny that. He reached for Viktor’s hand and rested it against his cheek. Viktor kept it there, patiently waited as Yuuri’s tears pooled along the crevices and miniature hills across the bed sheets. Yuuri’s tears were cold, tickled Viktor’s fingers as they ran down and were caught along the grooves between his fingers. Frigid, compared to the warmth that Viktor provided.  _ This  _ was what Yuuri needed the most.

Not just physical intimacy, where they could leave each other breathless with open stitches along their hearts. But emotional intimacy, this period of time where everything that Yuuri had held back for two years and counting flooded past his barriers and spilled in front of Viktor like this. Every worry and all the lies that were supposed to keep him strong fell like teardrops. Viktor wiped them back with his thumb.

_ “You…” _ Yuuri rubbed his eyes red, a mess compared to Viktor’s calm composure.  _ ”You’re okay with this?” _

“I am.” Viktor lowered his hand from Yuuri’s face and migrated it down Yuuri’s arm instead. Trailing down all the scars that were invisible to the naked eye, and Viktor laced his fingers between Yuuri’s. Like a needle woven through thread. His engagement ring shone in the darkness, flashing when Viktor deepened the touch. “You’re my heart, Yuuri. I want you safe, healthy, and happy.” Each word accompanied by a light tap across the knuckles when Viktor danced the rhythm of his heart across Yuuri’s skin.

After some time had passed, perhaps an hour or two later, Yuuri fell asleep. His arms across over the cold territory of the other half of the bed when Viktor had gone to shower, emerged with one of Yuuri’s t-shirts to wear for sleep. When Viktor sank back into the bed, Yuuri lifted one of his arms so that Viktor could slide closer. Once Viktor settled, Yuuri dropped his arm and cuddled closer.

Viktor had dreamed of a moment like this, once before. Where in a different reality, he and Yuuri would’ve shared a passionate night together while wearing each other’s suit jackets, exhausted on top of each other after a feverous climax, and they would spend the rest of the night talking. Perhaps, Viktor would’ve drawn a bath and his hands would massage every ache from Yuuri’s feet.

But in this reality, in this silence that accompanied Yuuri’s soft snores, Viktor wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

One step at a time, they can endure. One step at a time, it was going to get easier to communicate and feel vulnerable like this. One step at a time, they would know what they wanted to do in their love.

_ “The sun’s coming down,”  _ Viktor’s eyes a quarter away from sleep,  _ “and no one can hurt you now.” _

The whisper safely made it to Yuuri’s ear before Viktor rested his head for the night. Only to wake up tomorrow morning to tickle the world, just to see the sunrise in Yuuri’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [Piano composition](https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com/post/173012262416/yuuri-had-an-idea-of-what-love-was-but-he-didnt) (can be listened to while reading Yuuri & Viktor’s emotionally, intimate moment)
> 
> I think for my first “soft smut”, I did okay. As always, you can communicate with me @yuuris-piano on Tumblr to talk about the mafia series, discuss theories and future events for the upcoming chapter, and you can join the small following of readers who I sent fic previews to for excitement. Thank you for reading, commenting, and/or kudos-ing. Have a pleasant day/night~


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